I loathe this room. From his wallet he brought forth a yellow letter. She wondered when her tormentors would simply lose interest now that Katy had been discovered and suspended. She had tried him as a Crusader, in which guise he seemed plausible but heavy—“There IS something heavy about him; I wonder if it’s his mustache?”—and as a Hussar, which made him preposterous, and as a Black Brunswicker, which was better, and as an Arab sheik. This structure at once satisfied him as to where he stood. Then she passed from the room on the arm of General Lord Charvill, chatting animatedly to him.
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